How patriots of today honor patriots of yesterday

Last week my father made a journey of a lifetime. It called for a coordinated effort that included family members and a cast of hundreds of other volunteers, all working to deliver long overdue recognition to him and five-dozen of his counterparts. For Russ, Honor Flight Columbus (Ohio) began with a 5 a.m. wake-up call. For my brother Dean, who would transport him to the airport, and my sister Julie, who would tend to mother, the day began even earlier.

It wasn’t easy to convince my father to agree to this day trip. He, like many veterans of World War II, Korea and Vietnam, didn’t want to bother others who would have to give up their own time to acknowledge him — for service to country that occurred more than 65 years ago, no less. For someone now in their mid-80s, it would also be a very long and strenuous day. For someone who hasn’t flown in two decades, has double hip replacements, double hearing aids and a wife with Parkinson’s disease, it was just too much to ask.

In the end, it wasn’t family but friends who convinced him to do it. Once he committed, the team at Honor Flight kicked in, took the reigns and saw to every contingency. From his personal guardian, who accompanied him every step of the way, to the welcoming committee at the airport, which provided breakfast, hats, disposable cameras and other accoutrements for the journey, to transport and transfer personnel at every stop, to marching bands and retired and active military… The list of people involved in this endeavor — almost all of them operating on their own dime — is literally mind-boggling, and exceedingly heartwarming.

From Port Columbus the Southwest flight touched down in Baltimore, Md, where the 60 veterans met a hero’s welcome. Some 200 people cheered their arrival and vied to shake their hands, thanking them for their service a thousand times. The “teams” boarded motor coaches and made their way to the nation’s capital to tour the military memorials on the mall. Many, like Russ, took in the sights from a wheelchair. A few had to be carried from the buses to wheelchairs. Nonetheless, all were determined and excited to be a part of something that seemed to continue to grow ever larger as the day went on. They made their way to Arlington National Cemetery, winding through the roads and among the endless markers, the surviving veterans paying homage to fallen brothers and sisters. A setting sun chased the return flight to Columbus and when the doors opened they were once again greeted by a cheering, flag waving throng.

None of those who have made this journey will ever forget it. For them it is not important to be acclaimed “heroes.” The heart-swell comes with the surprising magnitude of the event, the thousands of people working to make it happen, and the realization that there are still many Americans who understand that freedom is not free — that it exists only because there are those who would put their lives on the line in order to preserve it. That epiphany — that the fire and love of liberty does indeed still burn within our nation — is what truly brings them joy.

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